Instinct
by xX12Anonymous97Xx
Summary: The story of how I fight and attempt to survive during the infection/apocalypse. Contains no characters from either game, only OC's based on people in my life.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The door to my room was thrown open suddenly and viciously. It slammed with a _'BANG' _into the doorstop behind it. The pale yellow of my room's overhead light painfully assaulted my squinting eyes. I brought my hands up to massage my eyes for a second, before I attempted to blink the sleep away.

Standing in the now open door frame was my father, dressed fully in black athletic pants, a black sweat shirt, and black tennis shoes. His hair was also black, but with hints of grey showing in it. The hair was still slightly damp, indicating he'd been in a hurry to get dressed. I wondered what he needed to get dressed for in the middle of the night.

"We've got to leave. Freshen up and then pack only the necessities. We're leaving in forty minutes."

I groaned, only half awake. "Why? What's happening?" I asked groggily.

"The green flu. It's here."

With that he hurried off down the hall way, likely to continue packing whatever he thought it was necessary to bring. His words woke me up almost instantly.

The green flu was a mysterious outbreak, something we knew very little about. The government had ordered everyone to stock up on food and water, and to barricade themselves inside of their houses. My father didn't believe what they said. He was always paranoid about that sort of thing. But I agreed with him in this case. It was better to get away from the large populations of people.

I stumbled out of bed and over to my dresser, where I took out some fresh clothes. I then moved on to the bathroom.

I took a two minute shower, leaving the water on cold. It was invigorating, and helped me wake up. After that I stepped out and dried myself off before putting on my choice of clothing. I had chosen a simple pair of blue jeans, well worn and comfortable, as well as a white t-shirt and a zip up grey sweatshirt, which I tied around my waist.

I ran a hand through my inch-long brown hair and took a moment to look at myself in the mirror. I'm only seventeen years old. I'm just a little less than six feet, at about 150 pounds. I have green irises, and my hair was shaved in the military style buzz cut, although it'd grown out a little since the actual cut.

I offered a small prayer up to my God, and then left bathroom and returned to my room. My bed and dresser were up against the wall to the left, my desk with my computer was directly in front of me, and my closet door was off to my right. The floor was made up entirely of a worn but good looking wood.

I opened up the closet and took a backpack off the shelf at the top. It was a good backpack, and would hold everything I needed.

I placed my laptop computer and it's charger in the special segment designed for it, then zipped it up and proceeded to pack myself a few changes of clothes. I also threw in my iPod and cell phone, as well as their respective chargers, as well as a few other items.

Last but not least I threw in my blue tinted sunglasses. They weren't necessary, but I had paid a lot of money for them. I put on my pair of lightweight tennis shoes and threw the backpack over my shoulder. I was about to leave the room when another object caught my eye.

My small switchblade knife. I had gotten it on a vacation to Tennessee, as a souvenir. It had never been used before. I don't know what made me do it, but at the last second I grabbed it and jammed it down into my pocket, before switching off the light to my room and walking out of my room for what might very well be the last time.

I walked out of my room, shoes making a barely audible squeak on the wooden floor of the hallway. I turned left down and walked the five or six feet into our small kitchen. My mother was in there, packing a cooler full of food and drinks. She was in an outfit similar to mine, her fairly lengthy sandy colored hair held back in a ponytail behind her head. She looked up as she saw me.

"Dad wants you in the back bedroom."

I nodded and turned around, proceeding back down the hallway, passed my room and the bathroom, and into my parents' bedroom. Their floor was a greenish colored carpet, so I made very little sound as I walked across it. As I entered the door their bed was ahead of me and to the right, and the closet door was directly to my left. I heard my father moving around in there, so I knocked gently on the wooden door.

He opened it a moment later and ushered me inside. Two racks of clothes hung from either side of the small space, and he bent down and pulled out a medium sized silver safe. He did the combination as I waited, and looked up to me.

"I hope we don't need these, but we never know."

Out of the safe he took two handguns. One an older 357 magnum revolver, and the other a newer Beretta .40 caliber. He handed me the holstered revolver and a box of 30 bullets, as well as a plastic bag. He threw in the ammo for our other two guns as well. The Beretta and an M1 carbine he'd inherited from his father, or my grandfather.

"Go put this in the car."

I nodded "Okay."

I made my way back down the hallway, into the kitchen and around my mother, and to the front door. I walked out and down the three steps to our family vehicle. It was a 2006 green Ford Escape. The back hatch was already open and loaded with the cooler my mother had been loading earlier, as well as a couple bags of canned goods, and some suitcases which presumably held the things my mother and father had packed. I went around to the driver's side of the car and opened the back door. I placed my backpack inside as well as the bag which held the magnum and our ammunition. I noticed on the passenger side in the backseat were several half-gallon gas cans and another object that probably wouldn't help us one bit. I shrugged it off though, and went back inside.

My mother and father were running around frantically, closing and locking all the windows and turning off all the lights. I helped them finish it up, and we loaded our last few supplies before piling into the car. My father took the driver seat, and my mom took out a map of our decent sized city. The government, thinking it'd help stop the spread of the disease, had taken to blockading every entrance to the city, as well as setting up many checks on many of the major streets.

In the week before the infection had made it to us, we had passed our time by studying their every move. On the map we had marked every checkpoint they had made, so we knew just which streets to take. Unfortunately, that meant we'd probably have to deal with some crazy people.

With the infection people had gone crazy. They had taken to looting and stealing and shooting. We were probably one of the only families that had any gas left for our vehicle, so we would have to be extremely cautious.

As my father backed out of our driveway and out onto the street, we each took one last long look at the place that had been our home for nigh on my entire life. This was probably the last time we'd ever see it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

We drove slowly and quietly through a seemingly deserted alley. The sun was only barely beginning to rise, coloring the sky east of us a pinkish purple. Its light hadn't quite reached down to us yet, and as such it was still necessary for our vehicles headlights to be on.

We were in one of the many back ways, one of the places we had to be very careful in. Although it _looked _deserted, there was a good chance that people were waiting, in an ambush for any who dared intrude on _their _turf.

All we saw were old food cartons, dirty newspapers, and several toppled trashcans as we went between the older, brick buildings. And then, suddenly, he was there. It was a single man, standing in the middle of the alleyway. He held an object; long, silver, and glinting in the beam of our vehicle's headlight.

I could sense my father was hesitating. There was no room for us to drive around this man, so did we stop? Or did we keep going… and hope he got out of the way?

And then abruptly, ferociously, my door was thrown open. Another white man, dressed completely in black and even wearing a black ski-mask, took hold of me. His right hand snaked around my left arm, and in his left was a knife as well.

I was frozen with fear, I willed myself to move, but my body wouldn't respond. Until instinct took over.

The man who had ahold of me lashed out with the knife-hand. My right was up in an instant, grabbing his wrist and fighting to keep the knife away. Remembering something my dad had shown me long ago, I ripped my left arm free, and elbowed him direct in the nose. He recoiled backwards, landing with a crash and toppling over several silver trashcans.

I saw more people coming out of a doorway, about ten feet behind our car. A doorway we hadn't seen driving down here.

_Blam! Blam! Blam!_

In the few seconds that my struggle with the man had taken, my father had managed to get out of the car. He held his berretta in a raised stance, the barrel smoking only ever so slightly.

I looked down. It was a sight that would be burned into my head for the rest of my life.

The man that had attacked me was most definitely dead. His head was like a watermelon, in the way it had splattered all over the ground. I threw up. It was mostly acids, but it didn't stop me. I kept throwing up until I had nothing left to give, and even then my body wouldn't stop trying.

My mother reached back and pulled me back away from the sight. My father slammed the door closed.

The other people were backing away now, and the man that we had originally seen standing in front of our car was long gone. He got back into the car, and continued driving like nothing had ever happened.

…

I wasn't sure how long I stayed lying on that seat, but the next think I knew we were stopped. We were in a sort of garage. It didn't look like it had seen use for quite a while.

There were a few holes in the roof, those being the only source of light. The sun shown down through the holes, illuminating the rest of our dusty environment. Various old tools lay scattered about the area, wrenches, hammers, that sort of thing.

There was even an ancient lawn tractor, although it was more of a rusty frame now than anything useable. I could hear my parents discussing something outside, although I was not able to decipher their words. Not that I really cared anyway.

I couldn't get that image out of my head.

I wondered how my father could just kill a man like that, and drive away. I saw him coming towards the car, and I figured I would get my answer soon.

He opened my door and leaned up against the frame. I sat up to face him.

"I… don't know where to begin. I've always told you I'd do what is necessary to protect you." I nodded. I could understand that. It was natural for any parent to want to protect their young. I looked up as he continued.

"It's horrible for me… to think that I had to kill someone. The only way I can think of to _justify _it is to think about what they would have done to us. My bet is they would've killed us in a lot more painful of a way than a bullet through the brain."

I nodded again. "I just… I can't get that image out of my head… every time I close my eyes… it's there again."

He put his hand on mine. "I know. He was still a human, just like us. It's sad that we've come to this. Killing each other for a few scraps of food when instead we could work together…" he stopped for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. "The best we can do is take care of ourselves, now."

I knew he was right. I got out of the car, and stretched. "I pray to God we don't have to do that again." I said.

We spent the rest of our day ambling around the small garage area. We took out a few cans of fruit and had those for breakfast. About mid-way through the day, though, I found a door at the back of the garage.

I pushed it open slowly, the old rusty hinges squealing with immense displeasure. It brought me into another small room, where there seemed to be more dust than even possible. There were shovels and rakes caked in dust and cobwebs on the left side, a few gas cans to my right, and a stairwell directly in front of me. With no light fixtures, it was fairly dark in this room as well, so I had to squint to make out the details of the room.

I picked up the gas cans, finding a little bit of gas left in each one. I poured all of the gas into one can, and brought it back into the main room. I told my parents of my discovery, and placed the can into the back seat, beside the rest of them.

Then all three of us proceeded into the smaller room again, to see where the staircase went. The stairs were covered in dust, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. I brushed them away dismissively and continued up. It brought us to a single door, which in turn brought us out onto the roof of the building.

We were surrounded by older brick buildings many stories higher, the tallest to our right at twenty stories.

Its fire escape was close enough to the roof that I figured I'd be able to jump it. I didn't need to though, as there was a piece of sheet metal that allowed us to walk across the five foot gap. We climbed the fire escape to the top of the building, and there we saw a sight that looked like it had come directly out of a movie.

We looked across our entire city. Smoke filled the air, rising up from various burning buildings throughout the city. We could hear the low rumble of gun and weapons fire, people fighting off whatever the hell the green flu did. We could hear sirens from emergency vehicles, at least, that's what it sounded like.

"_Jesus Christ…" _My mother whispered.

I couldn't agree more. It almost hurt my eyes to look at it. I suddenly felt very cold, and I unconsciously put my sweatshirt on, hoping it would somehow protect me from the horrors of our world, a world that seemed to come from the darkest pits of hell.

Far off in the distance I could see military helicopters rising up into the air, flying as far away from the city as possible. They were abandoning their own citizens. My eyes narrowed.

_What a bunch of fucking cowards._

I honestly couldn't blame them, though. If I was in a position like that, I would be hard pressed not to take it and get the hell out of here.

As I stood there staring down at what we'd become, I couldn't help but wonder if this was what we deserved. For far too long now people had been going the wrong way. Greedy politicians, who didn't care about anyone but themselves. Business men, who were in it for the money and didn't care about their workers. Parents, who bought themselves alcohol and drugs instead of feeding and clothing their children. Reasons like that were what justified my thought.

Now we were murdering each other, _our own species, _and walking away from it like it was nothing. We were falling into a dark pit of self-destruction, but I had a sinking feeling the worst had yet to come.


End file.
